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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27948170">The Fires of History are in Your Eyes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pillarsofdreams/pseuds/pillarsofdreams'>pillarsofdreams</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Anastasia (1997 &amp; Broadway) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Historical, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, George is Anastasia and Clay is Gleb, Heavy Angst, Inspired by Anastasia (1997 &amp; Broadway), M/M, Mental Breakdown, Non-Graphic Violence, Power Imbalance, Prince George - Freeform, Revolutionary Clay, Suicide Attempt, based on the musical Anastasia, emphasis on reading the beginning note, heed the beginning notes for tw</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:33:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,515</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27948170</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pillarsofdreams/pseuds/pillarsofdreams</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gogy is trying to find his home and his family, but Clay stands in his way. Tasked with preventing any potential uprising of the royal family, Clay feels a draw towards the street sweeper who holds a striking resemblance to the former royal family. </p>
<p>or a DNF Anastasia AU that's flipped on its head <br/>(can be platonic or romantic)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; GeorgeNotFound &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Fires of History are in Your Eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>First off, I do not actually ship Anya/Gleb in the context of the musical nor do I actually ship George and Dream irl </p>
<p>Second, I'd like to address that when writing this, I did not intend to insert George or Clay directly into the context of the history. The history of the Romanov dynasty and the Russian Revolution is very messy and tragic and I keep the name Russia out of this work for that reason. Though I'll be honest when I say that it didn't end up as separate as I hoped because there are quite a few details that are used that don't help my case. </p>
<p>* following trigger warnings contain spoilers  <br/>tw: allusions/slight descriptions of violence and mentions of blood and death (when talking about the revolution and siege of the palace), dangerous mental spiral, gun use, attempted murder/suicide </p>
<p>This is your daily reminder to not be an ass if you decide to ship real people. That means be respectful to the content creators and don't shove any ship material (including this fic) in their face. Also please respect me and DO NOT send this to them.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>All of the royals were dead. It was a common fact known by all. Until it wasn’t. </p>
<p>Rumors blew through the country like a wildfire, telling of the son who was said to have survived the flames of the revolution. Prince George’s, the youngest prince of the family, body had never been recovered. Some just believed that he had been doomed to fall into ash and cinder, more so than the rest of his family. Others believed that he had somehow gotten away and that it was his destiny to return one day and restore peace in the country that had been in a disarray ever since the extermination of the monarchy. </p>
<p>The whispers within the streets had peaked in the last few weeks. Clay could hear the words in between alleyways hush to only wisps when he walked away, his government uniform making him stick out like a sore thumb. It painted a sort of target on his back. People treated him differently, like frail glass, with precisely picked words. It was no secret as to what happened if someone spoke against the government and its new leaders. But Clay wasn’t like that. He followed orders, he didn’t enforce them as the other officers did. He knew of the fear and uncertainty the citizens of his country faced in these trying times when the winter was harsh and food was scarce. A stiff hand from the government wasn’t going to fix anything. </p>
<p>A group of young women had demanded to speak to him one day, telling him that they overheard a scheme being pulled by three conmen to find prince George and return him to his throne. Or to receive the substantial reward for the prince’s safe return set forth by the former queen who had been the princes’ and princesses’ grandmother. </p>
<p>Sapnap, Soot, and Gogy were their names, but with further investigation, Clay found the names of the first two men were Nick and Wilbur. Gogy, there were strangely no files on. After reporting to his superior, he was told to track down Gogy for interrogation. </p>
<p>The young man had been quite shaken when he was grabbed off of the streets and brought to Clay, but there was a fire and determination in his eyes during their first meeting that didn’t belong to just anyone. It was obvious he was the one who was posing as the lost prince and for good reason. Not even Clay could deny the familiarity in his facial features. He tucked his fingers under his chin to bring his face up to get a better look at his features. It was easy to say that he did have similar features to the former royal family. He resembled the king when he was younger, at the beginning of his reign, but more importantly, he looked like the lost prince who had been six during the storm of the palace. “Leave us,” he ordered the guards standing in front of the doors of his office. They looked uneasily at each other, pausing to move. “I said, leave,” he said with a new air of sternness. They left without hesitation after that. </p>
<p>“Why am I here?” Gogy asked, frozen, as Clay went to look out the window of his office that overlooked the plaza square. He sounded unafraid. Clay had to applaud him for almost pulling it off. Almost. There was a slight edge that made Clay smile sinisterly. He was familiar and could identify easily when someone was nervous or hiding something from him.</p>
<p>“You and I both know the answer to your question, Gogy. Tell me, what is your last name?” he asked. It was a question of both curiosity and deception. There was no information at all that Clay could uncover over him. It was like he appeared in his city all of the sudden. There were no records of his life at all.</p>
<p>“I do not have one, sir,” he said. “I never knew my parents and grew up an orphan.” Clay hummed at the response, tapping his finger on his desk. He flipped through his alleged accomplice’s file to draw the tension tighter and to give him time to think. Already he knew he wouldn’t get any straight answers from Gogy. He wore and hid his secrets very well. </p>
<p>“From what I have been told, you believe your last name is Davidson.” The last name of the former royal family left a stale taste on his tongue. Gogy didn’t respond verbally or explicitly, but Clay could tell his hands were fidgeting behind his back. His secrets might be hidden, but they weren’t invisible. </p>
<p>“That would be treason against the new government which is a punishable offense,” Gogy said cautiously, carefully. One wrong word, one slip up, could give it all away. If he didn’t have such commendable self-control, Clay would’ve guessed that he would be sweating. “I have no intentions to go against my country.” </p>
<p>“So are you claiming that the rumors filling the streets of a group of conmen claiming to have found the lost prince are false?” </p>
<p>“I am only a street sweeper,” he said with finality, alluding to the first time the two had met each other. Clay still remembered bumping into him the first time a month ago. It was a brief encounter, but it was obvious how much the other had changed in such a short time. The man in front of him had changed from a boy that trembled like a delicate flower to someone with a found purpose. He held his head high and never faltered. “If those rumors are true, I have not taken part in them nor do I have any information about it. One should not so readily believe the rumors in those streets.” </p>
<p>Clay looked at him, trying to find anything, anything at all, to comment further on, but the man kept himself locked up behind iron doors. Clay needed more time, a different circumstance to break him. “I think that it is in both of our interests that I stop hearing your name being thrown around then, Gogy.” </p>
<p>“That is out of my hands. I cannot control who says my name.” </p>
<p>“Well then,” Clay grinned, “I suspect that this won’t be the last time we see each other.” </p>
<p>Gogy gritted his teeth, forcing out, “I look forward to it.” </p>
<p>Clay smirked, once again getting in Gogy’s personal space. He looked down on him. “Until then.” </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>As he had predicted, Clay and Gogy’s path did cross again. More than that, they seemed to be intertwined. Gogy had been quite angry when he had been brought back into his office. The officers practically threw him in before closing the door behind him so it was just him and Clay. “I assume you had no part as to why I was pulled off of the street all of the sudden,” he asked with a bite to his tone. Clay couldn’t keep from chuckling in a way that could make even a king nervous. </p>
<p>“I thought we had hit it off the first time you made an appearance here. You promised you would try to keep your name out of people’s mouths-”</p>
<p>“I promised no such thing,” he illy cut off, standing up and wiping off the dirt on his white shirt sleeves. It was a good color on him, Clay couldn’t help but notice. It made him look more… innocent. He ignored him and pressed on.</p>
<p>“And I promised that I would look forward to our next meeting, though I hoped it would be under different circumstances,” he paused to gauge the other’s reaction. He looked confused as if he hadn’t been listening. Clay grimaced. “But I keep getting reports about activity happening within the ballroom of the old palace. I can’t ignore the whispers and the rumors as much as you want me to, Gogy.” </p>
<p>He turned guarded again, scowling at the uniformed officer. “And what do they say? </p>
<p>“Traveling plans. Plans to escape this great country of ours. Now, who would want to do that?” When he got close to him, this time Gogy turned away. </p>
<p>“I am not sure,” he said, refusing to meet his eyes. Clay walked away, noticing the way he relaxed immediately. It wasn’t surprising as Clay had a lot of power and many people in the city, including Gogy, knew that. All he would need to do was raise his hand and worlds would be torn apart. Sometimes the power felt exhilarating and filled him with a sense of pride as it was what his father had worked towards until his dying day. But he also knew how fickle and unstable such power could be. Just like with the royals’ reign, power could be snuffed out like a light. Clay liked to play it safe and keep people from becoming angry at him specifically for that reason. </p>
<p>“Tell me. What do you think would happen if the prince returned and claimed his position on the throne?” Gogy remained silent. Whether he was too afraid to answer wrong or he wanted Clay to answer his own question, he wasn’t sure. It was probably a mixture of both. “Chaos,” he answered simply. “The people wouldn’t know who to follow, and there would be another battle for power, just as there had been during the hard times of the revolution. Our country has been through enough already, and the only way to ensure that we don’t make our people go through that again is to ensure that the current government can flourish without any other impediments. Families were torn apart because of the revolution,” he paused as thoughts of how his father had changed after the battling invaded his mind. He kept them at bay and continued, “I’m sure neither of us wants that to happen.” </p>
<p>The look in Gogy’s eyes changed. They were cloudy and contemplative, like Clay’s words had a different result than intended. “You’re right. Some are still trying to reconnect the pieces,” he said quietly, and when their eyes met, Clay couldn’t help but think that maybe they weren’t that different after all. </p>
<p>Clay never expected Gogy to heed his warning. He had a determination and an inextinguishable fire that not even a threat from the president could stop him. Even during their second interaction in his office, Clay knew what their plan was as it was the plan of most con men claiming to have information regarding the last prince. The group of three had traveled to London to get the attention of the former queen. </p>
<p>Clay was assigned to follow them and to get rid of the problem at any cost. The way his superior had said that last part with a venomous sneer made Clay’s stomach feel like lead. What he meant was to kill him if necessary. The thought of killing Gogy only filled him with dread and despair because he didn’t know him. Something told Clay that Gogy wasn’t in the heist for the same reasons that the other two were. Maybe he had been roped into the whole scheme without knowing how much he was really biting off. He couldn’t help but feel a bit protective over him. Clay tried to warn him of the potential consequences, but he obviously ignored them. </p>
<p>He kept an eye on the group from afar, their every step. Never had he been to London, and it was a lot different than his home country, but he had read of life in cities like London, Paris, and even Dublin. He was good at blending in. </p>
<p>There was a point when they did a bit of sightseeing, led by Wilbur who seemed to know at least a little bit about the city. They also received help from two boys who couldn’t be older than 18 to meet the former queen. He knew that they worked close to her, helping her in her old age.</p>
<p>They all met at a public upscale dining room in the city that Clay was able to also get a reservation at. He asked for a table far away from them, but he still had a good vantage point to be able to see where they were sitting. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he watched facial expressions closely and was able to gauge what was likely being talked about. </p>
<p>The former queen seemed incredibly dismissive, and Nick was getting angry. Clay guessed he knew something that the rest of the table didn’t. He seemed to say something that might have been harsh or insulting that she did not respond too kindly. The rest of the table watched in shock as Nick stood up and stormed away from the table towards the bathrooms with Wilbur following in tow. After a moment to make sure no one suspected anything, he got up to follow. </p>
<p>The two were conversing within one of the stalls so Clay quietly closed the door after he entered and listened. “I know I know,” Wilbur said. “Obviously, this didn’t work out as planned, but we’ll have another chance tonight at the ballet. Gogy knows the information. He’ll convince her.” </p>
<p>“No!” Nick protested followed by a harsh banging sound. Clay guessed he hit something that Wilbur was quick to reprimand him for. “God damn it Soot! Don’t you see?! Gogy doesn’t need to convince him of anything. He is the lost prince.” </p>
<p>A heavy silence fell over the room. Maybe Clay should have been more surprised than he actually was, but it was the last confirmation he needed to fit together all of the pieces of the puzzle together. Gogy looked the right age to be Prince George. When Clay had uncovered some of the old photographs of the former king when he was younger, there was a striking resemblance. George probably knew, and that was why he wanted so badly to come back to London. His grandmother was his only living family, and he would do anything to reunite with her. Even if it meant teaming up with a pair of con men. </p>
<p>“How are you so sure? Wouldn’t Gogy know if he was the prince?” Wilbur questioned, the skepticism thick in his voice. </p>
<p>“Last night, we were talking. I told him about how I had seen the prince during the Christmas parade. When he imagined what it was like, he could recall details that I hadn’t told him. It was like when we were teaching him about the royal families, and he could recall random information we didn’t tell him or didn’t even know! He doesn’t realize it because his amnesia hasn’t been fixed completely, but he’s the prince.” </p>
<p>Another moment of silence. It was a lot for Clay to process. First, they were going to the ballet tonight. He had seen the posters around town advertising a performance of Swan Lake and the large concert hall in the center of the city. The queen had also been famous for her love of the ballet concerts that the country used to perform. Second, Gogy really was prince George, but he himself didn’t know it yet. The only people who knew were Nick, Wilbur, and now Clay. He would need to work fast if he was to put an end to this once and for all. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Clay couldn’t keep his eyes on the ballet for more than a few seconds. The other people in his box, friends of the country’s government who had been excited knowing such a high ranking officer would be sharing their box with them, now probably thought he was weird because they were well into an hour of the ballet and, Clay had seen about fifteen minutes of it. It was hard to keep his eyes off of George who was in a box he shared with Nick and Wilbur. They had all dressed up to attend the ballet, but he couldn’t deny how beautiful George looked in a deep royal blue suit. It was definitely an upgrade from the raggedy winter clothes he had worn during their interactions back at home. Now, he truly looked deserving of a crown.</p>
<p>The former queen and the two boys, who he learned were named Tommy and Toby, were in a different box which gave the best view of the ballet. Sometimes, Clay noticed the former queen glance at George’s box and the same the other way. He was sneaky enough from where he sat that no one had detected him until he noticed Nick glancing at his own box repeatedly. He obviously didn’t want to seem like he suspected anything, but Clay knew. When their eyes locked, he smiled which made Nick narrow his eyes and turn away. If he hadn't known before, he definitely knew now. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>It was three days later when everything went to shit for Clay. Headlines everywhere were plastered with speculation that the lost prince had been found, and that they were waiting for more information that would be released at an upcoming press conference. That meant that George or Nick or someone had convinced the former queen, and they were reunited. </p>
<p>Clay felt guilty loading his pistol that morning in his hotel room, but he had a duty to his country. His father worked his whole life to get rid of the royals so their country could prosper. He wasn’t going to allow his father’s legacy to go to shit just because of the royal who got away. </p>
<p>The embassy was crowded and flooded with reporters. Security had been so overwhelmed, Clay showed his id showing he was a government official, and they didn’t bat an eye or question him. After Nick saw him at the ballet, Clay kept a low profile keeping tabs on them. He knew when one or more of the trio left their hotel and where they went, but he wasn’t able to find out much more than that at a time. All three of them often would look over their shoulder or at their surroundings a couple of times probably looking for Clay which meant Nick had told them. It was a pain to make that effort to blend in, but none of them seemed to identify him in the crowds which good. Hopefully, they wouldn’t suspect a thing at the press conference. </p>
<p>He couldn’t help but wonder just how close Nick and George were. It was obvious when they went out that those two were the closest (not even Wilbur and Nick could compete) by the way they were always side by side and the way they made each other laugh. It didn’t help his mission when he felt waves of jealousy observing them. If it had been up to him, he never would have been the one who intimidated and threatened George during their unfortunate meetings back home. There was an unmistakable pull he felt towards the prince that made him want to throw caution in the wind. Thinking of how it was likely to end up made him physically sick. </p>
<p>He took note that their affection never went past protective or small touches when needed. Nick would put his hand on the small of George’s shoulders, but never for more than a moment. George would smile or laugh at his jokes, but never hold his hand. Clay hated the feeling of relief once he realized. </p>
<p>He was brought back to his internal conflict as he traversed the halls of the embassy. His country could never be free unless all of the royals that chained her in the first place were gone. Eradicated. That meant George had to go. He would only continue the tyranny of his father and his father before him. It was a cycle of corruption that never stopped. One bad seed after another. </p>
<p>He wasn’t unaware of the citizen’s feelings towards the new government. So far, no one had been better off after the shift in power. People were still suffering, starving in the streets. He often refused to believe that anything his father had done was bad or done without the interest of the people in mind, but it was more complicated than that. Clay couldn’t deny the problems in the government system. </p>
<p>But was he able to do it? Would he be strong enough to make the same decisions his father made? Would George? Time would be the only thing that could tell him, but he didn’t have time. If George was introduced as the lost prince in front of all of those reporters, then Clay wouldn’t have a choice to make. He wouldn’t be able to show his face in his country again for he would have failed his mission, and his commander would not allow that. </p>
<p>His grip tightened around his gun at the thought as he walked down the empty hallway. He hadn’t seen anyone in the hallways since he began his search, and it was eerie. He came across a large room with windowed doors. When he looked in, his heart sank seeing George. He was alone with his back turned, offered up like a lamb to slaughter to Clay. One pull of the trigger, one shot and it’d all be over. He wouldn’t have to think of it any longer. When he returned home, he would be a hero. But to who and at what cost. </p>
<p>Without George noticing him, he snuck in and locked every door so they wouldn’t be disturbed, but he would need to make his work quick before he lost his nerve. As he got closer, he could hear the heavy, panicked breathing coming from the prince who had a new shiny crown on his head. Once again, Clay couldn’t help but admit he looked handsome in a cream-colored outfit that was customary of the royal men to wear at official gatherings. Clay imagined that was the first time he had ever worn it. It was almost funny thinking about the dirty rags he had worn when they had first met. It truly felt like a lifetime ago. </p>
<p>He was behind George whose shoulders were hunched in, and it became clear that he was shaking. Clay almost had the mind to comfort him, but he was quick to control himself. Besides, death was the cure to all ails. </p>
<p>His plan was to do the deed and dash and deal with his mental anguish later. He knew what was likely to happen as it had happened to his father all of those years ago. The image of his father’s lifeless eyes and stoic features that were a constant in the last half of his life was an image that would never be erased from his mind. </p>
<p>George wasn’t supposed to see him. If he did, Clay knew he wouldn’t be able to follow through. But he hadn’t taken into account the sound his gun would make as he cocked it. George’s head shot up and his eyes hardened at the sight of him. “Clay.” </p>
<p>“An underhanded boy. An act of desperation,” he let out a dry laugh, feeling the crushing weight of his actions now weigh heavily on his shoulders. Everything he knew was coming tumbling down as he looked into George’s eyes and only seeing purity. Even though he barely knew him, was he going to be the one to take it all away from him? Right after he found his happy ending, Clay had been ordered to take it all away. It seemed crueler than any act Clay had known. His vision blurred with George at the end of his gun, but he knew his shot would be true if it came to it. “And yet, I let you go,” he paused, lowering the gun slightly, but keeping it visible at his side. “Your choice. Come back home with me or don’t leave this room.” </p>
<p>“My home, my family is here now.” </p>
<p>George tried to walk past him, towards the exit, but Clay was quick to grab his arm, keeping himself from walking further. “Stop playing this game!” he couldn’t gather himself enough to say his name because knowing the truth, only one name came to mind. “If you are the prince. Do you really think history wants you to have lived?” </p>
<p>“Yes!” he cried out, ripping his arm from the other’s grip. The fire in his eyes that Clay had identified before was blazing and brighter than ever before. Clay was convinced not even the fires of hell could compare with the flames in his eyes now. “Why don’t you?”</p>
<p>Clay saw red, bent between pulling the trigger and just letting him go. Just like he did before. He was half-convinced it was something he would always do. “The royals were only poison for our country. A dog that must be put down. Unfortunately, it seems one got away.” His gun was once again raised, but it was clear to see his hand was trembling. “Finish it I must.” </p>
<p>His gun was ready for the one moment that would put him out of his misery. It was simple in theory, but there was so much stopping him. George noticed this and took advantage, letting out his own inhibitions. “You see my face in theirs, so finish it,” he said through gritted teeth. His voice was stable yet strong and biting at Clay’s defenses. He was furious, but Clay could tell not just at him. “But I hope you know that I won’t scream. Not like they did. The blood you shed isn’t just mine but the blood of a nation.” </p>
<p>Clay could drop his gun at any moment with how much he was shaking. When the outcome had once been so clear in his mind, now he was so unsure of everything. He doubted his strength and his ability. He wasn’t his father. He was hesitating. “Do it,” George encouraged with stray tears springing to his eyes. “Do it and I will be with my family once again.”</p>
<p>His finger was over the trigger, and he imagined what his father had gone through the night of the siege of the palace. Everyone knew what had happened that night. The fire, the screams, the death. He could almost hear them in his own head. “We have the past to bury,” he gritted out, feeling like he was losing his sense of reality. If he could not see George’s face or hear his voice or <i> know </i> him, it might relieve the pain. </p>
<p>“You are repeating history! And you will be doomed to repeat it. Just as our ancestors did.” </p>
<p>“No! Stop!” he demanded, unsure if he was talking to George or to himself. The lines had become too blurred. He blocked it all out. All emotion, all thought, all feeling. He let everything slip away to where he wasn’t sure he’d be able to even remember his own name. His hand was now steady and the shot would surely kill in an instant. For the first time, George looked scared. “A revolution is a simple thing,” he yelled, ready to end it all. He was ready. </p>
<p>He convinced himself he was ready even since his father’s death, but maybe it had only been haunting as of the past. His eyes remained on George, his hand steady. In a perfect world, the shot would have been fired. But he was hesitating. He was breaking. “Who are you?” he questioned slowly, carefully. The answer scared him to death, but he needed to know. Even if he already knew. </p>
<p>“I think both of us know already,” he said with no room for argument. Turned out, that was okay with Clay. </p>
<p>He dropped to his knees, feeling exhausted like never before. The marble of the floor was cold against his palms and biting against his knees. His body was returning to him, and he was tired. Tired of everything. He couldn’t pull the trigger on George. It would drive him to madness. Unless he was there already. </p>
<p>George watched the broken man as if watching an injured fawn. Before he could even take a step to approach, Clay grabbed the gun that was on the floor. </p>
<p>He was confident now with the gun against his own temple. He was unafraid and sure that he needed to be put out of his own misery, but that voice stopped him. “Clay,” the prince gasped, but not moving to step closer. </p>
<p>Clay couldn’t imagine what he looked like on his knees in front of the prince. His suit was probably in disarray as well as the hair that was sticking to his forehead. He was practically vibrating, feeling the adrenaline and blood pumping in his veins. </p>
<p>“Stop the bloodshed, please,” the prince pleaded, taking one small step closer. “It doesn’t have to end like this.” </p>
<p>Clay felt the tears run down his cheeks, and when he looked up into George’s eyes, he felt safe, almost. It calmed him seeing that George sincerely didn’t want him to pull the trigger at all. Like it really wasn’t supposed to end like this. </p>
<p>His hands were shaking even after he dropped the gun, the clattering of it on the ground echoing throughout the large room. George approached, kicking the gun away and getting on the ground so he was eye level with him. “I’m sorry,” Clay broke, letting out a nasty sob. There was so much more he wanted to say because he knew George deserved it, but it was all he could manage at that moment. </p>
<p>George comforted him, even though he didn’t deserve it, by bringing him close and letting him sob into his shoulder. The world became more manageable at that moment. Clay no longer felt like he was being dragged by his duty and responsibility, but he let himself enjoy the moment and the comfort that wasn’t common for him. Even if it was for a fleeting moment. He didn’t worry about the future nor the past. </p>
<p>He was in a daze lost in the comforting feeling of George running his up and down his back like a mother would to a child. He wasn’t even sure how long they sat there. </p>
<p>A tear hit Clay’s cheek that was not his own. He looked up at George to see tears in the prince’s eyes. “When did the world decide to fuck us over like this,” he asked, close to breaking. “When did our lives stop belonging to us?” The two were realizing how similar they were through their differences. Both had been pawns towards a conflict that had been happening since the beginning of civilization. Neither wanted the power, but it had been thrust upon them. They were like two sides of the same coin. </p>
<p>For a moment, Clay could believe that it had been only them in the world. No royalty, no government, no pressure. He could let himself relax and feel his breath for what felt like the first time in a long time. They had once been enemies, but that was what the world wanted them to be. Clay was surprised no one had come to check up on the prince for they seemed to sit there in silence and shared comfort for a while. </p>
<p>“We can leave,” George said out of the blue. “Neither of us are happy with what’s happened. If you have nothing tying you down, you can leave.” </p>
<p>Clay’s eyebrows furrowed at the proposition. Leaving his post without sufficient cause was treasonous, but he wasn’t worried about himself. “Isn’t this all you’ve wanted? Why are you ready to leave?” </p>
<p>George sighed, taking the crown off of his head. He held it in his hands, examining the ring of metal as if it were his first time really seeing it. With it so close to his face, Clay could see the individual jewels. It was beautiful. “When I joined Nick and Wilbur, I never thought that I was actually a prince. I just went along with it because it was a way to get to London because that was the only clue I had as to where my family was. The crown was an added plus,” he set it down on the ground. “But it was never what I wanted. I found my family, and she found me. And, maybe I found some along the way as well.” </p>
<p>Clay paused, wondering if George was serious. A new life away from the past that had begun to corrupt him sounded amazing for multiple reasons, but why was George offering they share it? Nothing in George’s eyes showed any doubt or regret. He was suddenly reminded of the first time George had stepped foot in his office. “We could,” he said finally. If George had been any further away, he was sure he wouldn’t have heard him. His voice was so quiet and unsure, yet the moment he said those words, he knew it was the right choice. He would be happy. </p>
<p>The only thing they left behind of their past lives was a crown and a gun. A memory of both what had and hadn’t happened and what was yet to come.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello! Congrats on making it to the end of the story :) </p>
<p>I highly recommend you check out the musical (or the movie, but I love the musical) if you enjoyed, especially the song "The Neva Flows/Still Reprise" which I stole a bit of the dialogue from because it's so bone chilling and I couldn't have done it better. So credits to the writers for pieces of the dialogue. Also to Christy Altomare and Ramin Karimloo for their beautiful performances. </p>
<p>Here's the link to the audio, https://youtu.be/iQKwxKnNNAQ but a search on youtube will get you a (bootleg) performance and some amazing animatics. </p>
<p>If you'd like to contact me, my tumblr is the same my user on here (@pillarsofdreams) </p>
<p>I hope you enjoyed :D </p>
<p>- Kashmere</p></blockquote></div></div>
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